the dog that lives at our house

Last night Dorothy decided to give the dog a (long overdue) bath. She made the mistake of letting Lizzie see her run the bath water. When I opened the door to go outside Lizzie made her escape and we couldn't get her back in for the rest of the evening. She was behind the house laughing at us. I thought dogs were supposed to be our pets and not the other way around. Aren't they supposed to be thrilled to do their master's will? As I write this I can hear her snoring in my recliner. Lizzie's on the verge of being fired.